Seddie Oneshot Collection
by Blushing.Violet
Summary: You think Sam has no weakness? Think again. Just a small collection of some of the things that bug her. Like Freddie. Set mostly in the first season; Spencer & his mighty tux included. Seddie! R&R!
1. Weakness

~*Weakness*~

Sam, like every other girl, had a weakness. A few of them. Some to her benefit, others to her downfall.

Take meat, for example. She loved the stuff; bacon, turkey, beef, she'd eat anything that wouldn't eat her first. The way a tender roast would fall into pieces, slow motion, melting softly in her mouth. Or the hickory smoked flavor of imitation dried meat products. You couldn't go wrong with those. And not only were they for eating, but they (being versatile) could be used to lure bullies away from helpless dorks, prompt the laziest co-host to get off her butt and rehearse, and were perfect for sticking up Freddie's nose, if you happened to feel particularly bored.

_One Year Ago…_

"_One bite."_

_"No."_

_"Two then."_

_"I said, no." Freddie shot back._

_"Okay how about I just take the whole thing off your hands?" She reasoned, casually. As if it would get her fed quicker._

_"No Sam! Go get your own." _

_"That's the problem! I can't." Her eyebrows knitted together and her faced etched itself with worry. " …Carly's, hiding it from me…"She hesitated, staring off into the distance._

_"With good reason." He nodded agreeably, just about to take a bite when Sam interrupted him again._

_"You think anything that girl does has good reason!"_

_"Because I __love__ her." He recited; the girl's eyes now into deadly slits. Her stomach growled impatiently._

"_I haven't eaten all day." Sam made an attempt for sympathy, although she was never good at it. "Please, for me?" Angling it right, she clasped her hands together and stared up at him, with a pouty lip. Studying her for a moment, he returned to his deli meats._

"_It, doesn't work with you." He said, tentatively._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I don't know, it just __doesn't__!" Freddie said, frustrated._

_"Only 'cause you're so selfish, you selfish sandwich eater." She hissed, arms folded._

_He blinked, and stared at her for a moment. "Be that as it may," He gave a slow nod, "You're still not gunna eat my ham and cheese sandwich. Note the pronoun, 'my', which modifies the noun, 'sandwich'. Emphasis on the mine. No where in the sentence does the word 'yours' occur. I've got cooties, anyway." He added, fingering the bread carefully._

_"Aw, is your mom treating you for those too?" Sam made a pouty lip, cooing in mock-sympathy._

"_None of your—Yes." _

_"Oh look! Carly in a swimsuit!" She jabbed a finger at the apartment door. _

_"Where?!" His face lit up like a candle._

_Snatch._

_He pretended to sneer at her. She stared right back in a sideways look, eating contently. Sam couldn't help but grin at the gullible little imp._


	2. Fears

~*Fears*~

Pssh. Sam was fearless. Just about. Weakness is linked to limits, and connected to fear. But she had little of that; you'd really need to _know _what made her tick. You would need a solid, physiological head on your shoulders with a jackhammer nearby for brain-picking.

To sum it up, it would be a long and drawn out tedious process; mess it up just the slightest fraction, BAM she's onto you, and you go through the whole song and dance again. It just, wasn't worth it.

But among the many mysteries that veiled themselves behind her, embedded in concrete, encased in solid amber, guarded by the scabs of mental scars, there was one in particular that surfaced.

_Three and a half months ago…_

_A spine-tingling shriek escaped as an inept little creature made its way across the side table, startled._

_Sam pulled her legs up and gazed uneasily at the vermin staring back at her with crimson, bead-like eyes. It froze abruptly and lifted its wings, testing the air and watching her whimper in submission. Setting its scale-like black wings down with ease, it resumed crawling aimlessly around the table._

"_What's wrong?" Freddie panted, scrambling down the stairs and almost tripping over himself a few times. His head whipped around the room in adrenaline, scanning for danger. "I heard a scream, is—" His eyes met with her pleading ones, and he almost cracked a smirk. Hearing Sam scream was like hearing there was a herd of rare Javan wild boars at the door offering free ice cream. It was just too rich. _

_Cheeks infused with rose-colored blood, she gazed over her shoulder, hugging her knees on the couch._

"_Sam, was that—?" He couldn't contain that smirk much longer, but he knew if he didn't she'd bruise him into next week._

"…_What, you thought that was me?" She muttered quizzically._

"_Who else would it be? Spencer—"_

"_Okay just for the record I do not scream like a little girl." He piped, waving a spoonful of marshmallow fluff at them from the kitchen counter. Sam shot him a look terrible enough to affect him all the way across the room. Freddie took a seat on the couch._

_A writhing of wings signified it was on the move again. Sam flinched reflexively, arms loosely folded._

"_Nor does the young lady over here." Carly's brother pointed out, trying to plead his case. "__**She**__ screams like a dying lion. I myself, scream like a retarded—"_

"_Spencer—"_

"_Mentally unorganized puppy." He corrected._

"_I just don't want a nasty creepy __**bug**__ in my space, is that okay?" She snapped. "I mean, is that so hard to understand." _

_She threw her arms up and Freddie scooted back a few inches, nearly getting whacked in the face by a loose-cannon elbow._

"_Why, I thought you __loved__ nasty and creepy things." He taunted, quietly. Sam blinked a moment, and stared at him critically. He knew something bad was coming._

_She clutched his collar, tugged him forward and stared him in his welfare-concerned brown eyes._

"…_Just, about, as much, as, I, would love, you." Sam hissed through her teeth, lowly. " Which is less, than I'd love, an amoeba." She released her grip & crossed her arms resolutely. Freddie brushed his shirt off and creased his brows carefully; shaking his head._

_Spencer smirked from over in his corner of the world. _

Insectophobia wasn't originally part of the package deal, as it was for most girls. Watching her mother recoil in terror didn't bring on deep-seated fear, either. Because like her, Sam never recoiled.

At anything.

Except broken hearts, week-long depressions and stuffing your gut with fried chicken to ease the pain… But, that was something different entirely.

_

* * *

_

The 7yr old girl was at the top of her class. Well, in social pecking order anyway. Or if you wanted to call it respect. Or being liked. Or a combination of both, if you had to be technical. She could tackle anything the elementary schoolyard threw at her and dangle it by its leg, if she wanted to. She loved the tickling in her palms whenever she scooped one up and cupped it carefully. Or the aimless squirming and helpless dangling of pink, juicy worms as second-graders would compare sizes or swallow them for dares and grimace for the bathroom. And most importantly, the squashing. Ohhhh, yes. The squashing was always fun. The teacher called them cruel and insensitive rebels to society but that made the squishing no less enjoyable.

_The blonde, half-hugging her knees, stared skeptically at the quite large, fuzzy insect, watching its beating wings hover almost aimlessly from __dandelion to dandelion; humming so soft yet so cheerily the girl could hardly detect it. Despite sensing her presence the bug ignored her, for the most part... Gazing at her with depthless, large shining eyes that made her take a tentative scoot back as it hovered in her direction and carried on its business._

_Sam stared at the bug lazily as she rested on the crisp grass, eyes shifting to the others at play and waiting for any one to wander too close, and experience pain... The Puckett way. A small boy, about her height, perhaps a bit taller, happened to look over as she sat alone and she glared angrily in response. You come over here, I eat you. Fair?_

_The boy nodded and started sauntering over, wearing a pleasurable smile._

_Sam's glare increased tenfold._

_He kept walking, unfazed by the threat, and sat down beside her; wearing a smile that was somewhere between friendly & confused._

_"You must be the new kid. Obviously." She stated, studying him up and down as her eyes slitted dangerously. "I suppose you don't know who I am yet, do you?" _

_He stared off at the others to soak in the view she was previously enjoying; Sam considered it stealing but he didn't seem to be willing to budge._

_"...Yeah, you're the school bully." He stated, kindly. "The one who stretched my underwear out in ways I didn't know it could, and hung me off a branch last week. That was me." He smiled, as if it was something to look back and laugh over. Sam bit her lip and forced a twitching smile. Yeah, it was him. A hand slid behind her neck and scratched it culpably._

_"Come back for more?" She inquired, bouncing a brow and smirking at his alarmed expression. "I just thought you shouldn't have to sit and wait for your mom by yourself. You may be mean, but, you're not inhuman." _

_She studied him once more and plucked a dandelion off the manicured schoolyard, staring at it endlessly._

_"Got a name, kid?"_

_"F-Freddie. Freddie Benson."_

_She stared back into the eyes of a familiar black-banded creature as she blew the flower carelessly; insect clutching for dear life. Studying the grains of sand-colored dust, she lifted a single finger to stroke it, smirking mischievously. _

_"I, wouldn't--"_

_"Don't tell me what to do, Benson."_

_The creature climbed onto her finger, and for a moment she'd thought her heart'd stopped. The rush of danger. Heh, stupid boy. Thought he knew ev--_

_A jet black, dagger-like thorn pierced her flesh like a bullet; pain searing up her hand as her finger grew warm. Its stinger seemed to pulse erratically, jeering her. _

_Samantha clutched her finger and screamed in pain, face reddening. With each cry her breath grew shorter, a hammer-like force pounding her head down to her knees. Freddie jolted up from the grass and booked towards the school._

_He knew it wasn't his own life in danger, but he couldn't explain for the life of him why he was the one who's heart was fusing into his stomach and flailing wildly; and why his voice was failing him while his body clammed up with sweat. She was the only one with life hanging by mere threads. He'd only known her for what, five minutes? This was crazy. He was crazy. He skidded, reconsidering his actions and the ones she'd shown him previously; fighting his conscience. It didn't add up. One of his sneakers lost traction on the damp grass and landed on his rear, covered in a prominent mud spot. Huffing, he lifted himself up again and closed the gap between himself and a worried-looking teacher._

_"Mom!"_

* * *

"…_So it __was__ you who—" There was the smug smile again._

"_Shut it Benson." She mumbled, "You heard nothing. Now just, waltz back upstairs, press your little techie buttons to amuse yourself, and forget any of this ever—"_

_It just happened to be that moment, when she caught sight of the offending insect just about a mere fourteen-centimeters away from her face; sitting smugly on the back of the couch._

_Sam let out a cry of bloody-murder._

**

* * *

I'd realized that I left a plot hole as regards how she started hating the vile little creatures in the first place (that I _thought_I patched up a while ago before this was published -_-). So, it's officially done! Yay! Lol. REVIEW, I HAVE COOKIES!**


	3. Limits

~*Limits*~

Well, of course she had those. Everyone did.

It started out, fair enough. She would accompany Carly to her date with Freddie, (which, after much desperate and begging, he finally won over). It was for awkward reasons, and Sam signed the legal binding contract because she technically had to. This made up for one of her many, 'I.O.U.'s' Sam had handed her after she'd helped with some menial, usually unspeakable, task.

Carly never mentioned anything about dressing up.

"No. Beefin'. Way."

"Sam you have to!"

"Uh, no I _don't _have to. My disclaimer specifically rules out 'pink frilly frou-frou' stuff right, there." She jabbed a finger onto the scrap paper, and made her way for the door. Carly bit her lip.

"Yeah but I used _this _one," She dug it out of her pocket, "Which specifically claims that frilly frou-frou is allowed."

On the small paper the fine print policy was clearly scribbled out. And replacing it was the neat handwriting, of only one person she knew.

"…Fredward," She muttered under her breath, forming a tightly clenched fist and ready to sue him under court.

"Nah, that one's expired."

"I thought these things don't _come _with expiration dates." Carly said, slyly.

Every bone in Sam's body cringed, and she surrendered herself to the enemy.

"One condition," She looked her sharply in the eye.

"_You're not putting me in a dress!_"

So, Carly put her in a dress.

* * *

"Remind me again… _Why?_"

"Because you can't show up at a place like that being anything less than fancy! It's abnormal." Picking up the scissor, Carly cradled a small bit of uneven blonde curls. Judging by the ferocity of Sam's growl, she put the cool blades back down, slowly.

"_You're_ abnormal." She shot back.

Carly made her wince by folding and pulling her tresses just a bit too hard. Standing over the chair in the studio, she perfected the masterpiece at hand.

"Sam, just hush. You're breaking my concentration." She scolded, bobby pins between her teeth.

"…I thought you said this was _your _date."

Carly set the pins down and studied her work thus far, fluffing her bangs and grabbing her trusty 'misbehaving' squirter. Sam flinched as the chill hit her head, brushed through carefully.

"It _is._ But I won't have my best friend embarrassing me in her non-elegant-attire-that-makes-rich-people-stare. It's the least you could do. Just for a few hours?" She pleaded. Pulling another one out with a spare hand, she went straight for the locks again.

Sam felt the bobby pins scraping her scalp like vicious blades. She whined like a seven-year old; Carly simply ignored it.

"I'm getting a headache."

"Really? Cuz I already have two."

"Is this necessary?"

"Oh, look at you saying more words." The brunette mocked playfully.

* * *

"Carly Shay, this is where I draw the line." She said flatly, eyeing up the makeup kit bigger than her head. Luscious shades of rouge and sparkling shades of pink stared back at her, browns and blues and blacks and purples and all these tiny little brushes.

"You'll look so pretty." She cooed, motherly.

"I don't _wanna _look pretty." The blonde threw the gentle tone back in her face.

"You've worn this stuff before." She fingered through the colors, trying to find a good shade. Sam still hadn't stopped staring at it.

"Yeah, at 2 in the morning. One time. And it was slathered all over my face. Gorgeous!"

"…Stop talking, you're making me mess up." Before she knew it, Carly was lathering a stick of colored wax all over her lips. She followed orders throughout the whole procedure.

"What do you think?" The brunette asked proudly, showing her the mirror.

She studied her reflection almost blankly for a few seconds, rubbing her ruby red lips together.

Sparkling eye shadow graced her and blush tinted her cheeks. Her braided ring of curls held tightly in place by bobby pins constricted her head in a death grip, but it seemed worth it, for now.

"Red? Why red?"

"Cuz pink would have you gaking all over the place and I figured, boys like red. It's bold."

"And, that lead you to choose purple." She stated, as her friend merely studied the dress for a few moments.

"I like purple." Carly said defensively. Sam sighed and massaged her forehead.

"Did you know that lipstick may contain fish scales, cow brain, or crushed beetles?" By now she was just bored, and a pacing Carly kept glaring at the clock like it did something to her. The blonde swung her heels around in circles, keeping the bar stool company.

"So, at least you look nice." The brunette chirruped, positively; "…You owe me an apology once we're done here."

"For what?" Sam folded her arms, eyes creased into paper-thin slits.

"For complaining! Any boy would be falling over his two left feet for—"

"Carly are you—" He closed the door behind him, and instantly his face froze for a minute, walking in half-cautious-half-skeptic.

"Wow, you look… Wow. Hot—I mean. Um, where's our drive—"

"Da na na nah-nuh nah-nuh nuh-na nah-nuh na-na nah nuh na TUX-MAN!" Spencer sang, zipping out of his room like greased lightning and striking a heroic pose. "Tux-man!" He stopped & echoed softly, in a girly-voice.

"Ah, I see my young Tux-lad has arrived. Shall we vanquish evil?" He asked triumphantly.

"If evil is blonde, red, and naturally aggressive…" Freddie muttered.

"_Freddie!_" Carly barked.

"What? Red's the color of evil!"

By this time Sam threw her low head up proudly, slid off the stool and carefully clicked over to his eyes, reading them.

"No, it's the color of stupid wieners like yourself." She shoved him aside briskly and trudged for the door, loosing balance quickly and falling over in her heels. Saving face (if any,) she hit the floor in a push-up, and Freddie helped her up. Their eyes met for a second and she ripped her hand away, glower sharper than his.

"Da nah nuh nah na na nuh nah TUX-MAN!" Spencer fled for the door and opened it for them, filing out.

"Tux-man!"

"Spencer!" They shouted.

"Sorry."

"…Tux-man!" He whispered in encore.

* * *

"My good friends." Carly chimed in the middle of the car, trying to lighten the mood.

"Isn't this nice? We're all going out to have a good time and—"

"Tell Sam over there she looks simply _ravishing_."

Carly turned to stare at him, quizzically. Crossed, Sam only half-looked.

"Really?"

"No. Repugnant." He stated, arms folded.

"Tell Freddie he forgot to brush his teeth." The target fired the arrow ricochet.

"I, _did_—" He stopped for a sudden breath-check, and Carly, a smile tugging at her lips, discreetly handed him a tick-tack.

"You'll need at least three." The blonde added.

"_You_ need the whole _box_."

In a huff, Sam smoothed out her silky gown and crossed her limbs.

"Whatever, dork."

"Right back at you."

"Buddies." Carly put an arm around each and crushed their shoulders.

* * *

Samantha Puckett could only be pushed so far. She had quite a few limits, one of them involved food.

Anything that could twitch after it was dead, (let's say mystery meat, with a long-held belief of being something between road kill and Spam) or stared back at her with cold, dead, lifeless glassy eyes was an absolute no-no.

It made her skin slither with chilling upheaval and _that_, is when she figured out how much she hated frogs legs. Freddie started it; she was just done with arguing.

So, they tasted like chicken. That's everyone _claimed_, including he who offered $50 in reward if she could stomach it. Confident, she bumped it down to $30.

The two squabbled about price reduction until the exotics arrived infront of her. Sam's eyes growing, and Freddie's smirk doubling in size, she stared at the swamp green, shriveled twigs.

"Well?"

Twenty-three bucks hardly made this worth it.

"I'm, waiting." He sang, boiling her white, chilled skin. Cautiously, she poked it with her fork, making sure it was really dead. It twitched a little, and

she squeaked, closing her eyes.

Sam stabbed it with her fork and shakily brought it closer, grimacing a little.

"You don't have to eat it, Sam—"

"Yes I do." She interrupted, and Carly bit her lip.

"That's right. Because in Sam's world I can never be right. It's always about her, her her her her."

"Yeah in your world it's just the opposite." She snapped, tersely. "It's always Carly, Carly Carly Carly Carly. Ugh, I'm sick of it." She stuffed the leg in her mouth and threw the fork down, clinking against the table loudly. An adhesive, glue-like substance leaked into her mouth and, a few seconds later, she stormed off for the ladies' room, suddenly gagging and picking up speed.

A few people stared on.

Sighing heavily, the object of Freddie's undying & obsessive affection shook her head.

"You realize what you just did." She stated, turning toward him.

Freddie shrugged, and nodded.

"You realize that from here on in she will torture you until you die?" She stated casually, was making sure this was all very clear to him.

"One small sacrifice." He chirped, happily.

She pulled her water squirter out of her bag nonchalantly and hit him dead on, having a feeling she'd need it that night.


End file.
